


Together, Amongst the Stars

by Ebozay



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Organized Crime, Revenge, Science Fiction, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebozay/pseuds/Ebozay
Summary: Space exploration had always been held back by humanity’s relatively short lifespan. To combat this, the first explorers of the galaxy used what was at the time cutting edge nanotechnology to extend lifespans and semi-sentient AI chips to transfer memories and experiences from one willing host to another to ensure knowledge was passed down from generation to generation.These first explorers were called nightbloods.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 35
Kudos: 59





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Summary Continued)
> 
> The enormity of space and the eternity that was time had a way of tempering old grudges, but once the secret of faster than light travel was cracked humanity, along with its grudges, spread out across the galaxy with an insatiable appetite. Grudges grown on Earth festered across systems and lightyears before exploding into all out war. However, life was cyclical, and just as war had ravaged and consumed system after system, so too had peace spread to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. Humanity seemed to grow to an understanding that working together and putting aside petty differences always seemed to work better than killing friend and foe.
> 
> But there was always instability in the outer worlds, always bandits, pirates, those looking to get away, and those looking to get ahead. It was the perfect breeding ground for criminals, for outlaws and those with long memories.
> 
> For nightbloods, now all but forgotten to time, the outer worlds were prime hunting grounds for the nefarious, and for the noble it was a way to find anonymity away from the politics and drama of the galactic core. And for one nightblood in particular? 
> 
> Lexa had a grudge to settle that was as old as time itself.

Books were something of a scarcity, especially Earth books. Paper had long since been replaced by hologram, ink replaced by nanotech that etched itself into letter, image and symbol. Most had never even held a book in their life and even more had probably all but forgotten that trees were once wasted on niceties rather than revered for the oxygen they provided. But even those concerns had long since faded into the annals of history as terraforming had become no more challenging than the construction of a mighty skyscraper of old.

Lexa’s finger brushed against the age old edge of a page, its ink almost faded. The paper was crinkled in more than one place and at times she thought it more likely to disintegrate under her touch than it was to remain together with whatever molecular strength it somehow still possessed.

The barest hints of solar wind buffeted her in the seat she sat in before the gravity plates adjusted, dampened and killed the discomfort before it even truly registered. Lexa cursed under her breath as she turned a page only to see the beginnings of a tear that formed along its weathered corner. She dare not risk any more damage to the last thing she cared for and so she memorised the page she was on before locking it into the far too expensive box she stored it in, the material it was made from more than capable of surviving any shuttle explosion that could be imagined.

Lexa looked out her window to find the dazzling lights of New Corbus coming into view, what could be seen of the planet’s surface was dominated by one grand city that stretched as far as the eye could see. A bittersweetness began to fill her heart as memories almost all but forgotten began to solidify in her mind. Moments like this were always the same. Memories would seem more dream and distant at first, but the more her mind lingered, the more she seemed to recall with increasing clarity until she remembered them as if they had happened only minutes ago.

It was a blessing and a curse, for it let her remember the good just as vividly as she remembered the bad. But she had come to terms with being a nightblood and all that came with it lifetimes ago. And so she smiled as a familiar pop of light shimmered and flashed into view somewhere in the distance.

A military cruiser from one of the core worlds and larger than most other ships rippled into view, its engines still awash with blinding light as they spooled down from the FTL jump as it prepared to fall into orbit around New Corbus. Other ships, some large, dagger like in appearance, some small, boxy and charming in shape zipped back and forth as they joined the traffic that so often swarmed hub systems throughout the galaxy.

There would be time to marvel at the enormity of what had become of humanity, but at a later stage. And so Lexa pulled her gaze from the window and to the space hostess who walked down the aisle as she gestured for passengers to stow trays, fasten harnesses and prepare for the final stage of their flight.

And with that, Lexa found herself wondering if she had made a mistake coming to visit an old friend after so many years.


	2. Chapter 2

The capital of New Corbus was unimaginatively called New Corbus City. Some thought it lazy, but to Lexa? She thought it nothing but helpful. After all her lives, and after all the planets and places she had visited, needing to remember names had become something of a chore. So she was thankful that the man who had named city had been feeling particularly unimaginative that day.

Despite the carefully constructed shine of a capital planet, due to New Corbus being one of the last hub systems before the outer worlds it had developed a reputation for an underworld that at times was charming and at times rather violent with whichever side of the planet one could expect to find tied directly to the company one would keep.

Lexa continued walking down the city boulevard as the pattering rain and the nighttime echoes of solar trance music filtered in from a club somewhere buried below. Neon-holos flashed images as she walked by of scantily clad men, only to shift to scantily clad women at her refusal to acknowledge the gyrating images that engulfed her. Anything to catch her attention, right? People walked past, too, some with heads tucked into their large coats turned up against the rain, others in boisterous conversation with partner and friend. Even skycars whizzed by overhead, the hum of their anti-grav engines barely making a dent in the cacophony of sound that was the city boulevard.

Lexa hadn’t visited New Corbus in almost a hundred years. Part of her had expected things to look different, part of her had expected things to look exactly the same. So it was strange that she felt both. Despite the differences, things still felt just as they did decades ago.

The boulevard Lexa walked upon was a floating walkway high above the planet’s surface of gleaming metal, that during the day glowed an ethereal silver but at night swallowed light and spit it out into a frenzied neon craze that bounced off surface after surface.

Building built up on top of building rose up either side of the floating boulevard, their base tethered to the planet’s surface far below, their tops somewhere so far above that even the neon holograms that flashed across every building surface disappeared from view.

A particularly rough gust of wind seemed to spit the rain into her face and Lexa grimaced past the discomfort as she tucked her chin deeper into the upturned collar of her coat, her hands stuffed deep into her pockets. Subconsciously she found herself thumbing the safety of the pistol she kept tucked against her hip through a hole in the pocket of coat designed to allow her to draw it at any moment’s notice. She normally didn’t feel the need to be armed, not in the core worlds, but she wouldn’t take the risk on New Corbus.

The gentle buzz on her wrist alerted her to an incoming message and Lexa blinked twice in quick succession to pull up the information on her ocular implants.

The message was simple, abrupt and perhaps even perfunctory.

All it gave her was an address, no other details. She didn’t expect much more and she didn’t even really need the address. She remembered from the last time she had been on New Corbus, and she didn’t think she’d ever forget.

Lexa blinked away the message as she cinched her bag a little closer to her body under her coat. She had time to kill, or she didn’t care about leaving her friend waiting. Whatever the reason, she didn’t care enough to figure it out herself.

This part of New Corbus city was distinctly somewhere between the upmarket and the rebellious youth. The people that walked by wore clothes that to even the untrained eye would seem expensive, luxurious and for the men, far too restricting in movement, and for the women far too revealing to be comfortable. But there was a subtle sleaze that permeated the air, that made Lexa’s taste buds sour at the thought of what happened behind closed doors. Perhaps it was the night lights, the holos that flashed their subliminal messages or even the wandering hands she could see on every corner that gave her that impression.

But Lexa paused mid step, she ignored the man who cursed her out as he side stepped her only to tread in a puddle and Lexa took three steps back as she came to a store front, its window flashing the news of the previous day, the signage quickly adjusting to her eye level as she peered inside.

Lexa looked into a bar that was practically empty, the few who remained nursed drinks close to the chest and a lone couple could be seen in the far corner, hands clearly up to no good in the shadows. Lexa took note of the time before stepping through the doors that opened for her and she was greeted by the gentle lull of music she hadn’t heard before.

The bartender, a snaggletoothed man, looked up and smiled with a friendly wave. It was a simple bar, a quiet bar, surprisingly empty despite its location on the boulevard. But for some reason Lexa thought it purposeful. 

As she found a spot at the bar, the sticky surface not unfamiliar to her, she found herself appreciating the quiet if only because it could give her time to think, to consider, to try to organise her thoughts and to temper her anticipation.

“What’re you having, sweetheart?” the bartender said as he slid a coaster her way.

Lexa looked up at him and decided for whatever reason to let the name slide as he eyed her up and down.

“Tungsten shot,” she said to raised eyebrows. “With ice.”

“One tungsten shot with ice coming right up,” it was rather cliched, the exchange, but Lexa found all bartenders seemed to follow the same script. Perhaps something about the occupation, she supposed.

Wouldn’t she play the part if she were a bartender? Wouldn’t that be what people came to a bar for? It certainly was when she had been a far younger woman.

It didn’t take long for the glass of steaming drink to be set down on the coaster in front of her and she could feel the bartender’s gaze on her as she reached forward. She didn’t know when she picked up the taste for tungsten shots. It had been so long ago that the memories took far too long to settle for her patience. It was a curse though, whoever had been partial to them had set every single one of her following bodies on a spiralling path of too strong a hangover in search of their first taste of the bitter drink, each body not quite having the same tolerance of the previous upon awakening.

Lexa brought the drink to her mouth, let the bitter heat burn against her upper lip and she inhaled deeply. She loved it. It was simple. It was easy to understand. Bitterness came only to be followed by a lightheaded appreciation for the foils of man. Or, in her case at least, woman.

“What brings a lady like you to New Corbus City?”

She looked up to find the bartender wiping down the bench in front of her, eyes full of innocent curiosity.

“What makes you think I don’t live here?” she challenged lightly as she let the rising steam waft against her face.

He scoffed, jerked his head to the couple in the far corner.

“You ain’t dressed like locals,” he said, and Lexa glanced over her shoulder and tried not to look too long at the skirt the woman wore, whose intricate patterns displayed windows of amber flesh for all to see.

“Maybe I come from the upper levels,” and Lexa let one of her eyebrows raise, the glint in the bartender’s eyes charming.

“Maybe,” he said, and he reached out and placed a glass of his own in front of him. “But you don’t.”

“I don’t?” and Lexa let her voice take on an incredulous tone. “Why?”

“Just a feeling. That’s all,” he said as he downed the amber drink he poured himself before filling his glass.

“It’s the hair, isn’t it,” Lexa said lightly as she flicked her hair aside, the brown waves happy to be let free from the confines of her coat’s collar.

“Maybe,” the bartender said with a laugh. “So,” and he took the time to savour the next sip he took. “You here for business, Miss? Or pleasure?”

There was a cheekiness to his voice and his question that made Lexa’s lips twitch up at the corners as old memories began to take hold.

“Maybe a little of column A, a little of column B,” she said, and she didn’t quite mean for it to sound just as wishful as it did.

“I see,” and it surprised her when he reached down behind the bar and pulled up a bottle of amber liquid and refilled her half full glass. “On the house,” he said. “You seem like you need it.”

“Thank you,” Lexa said as she closed her fingers around the glass and let the heat of the fresh drink seep into her tired bones. “What’s your name?”

He smiled before shrugging devilishly, “whatever you want it to be, Miss.”

“Does that really work?” Lexa said as she brought the glass to her lips.

“I dunno,” and he laughed quietly. “Does it?”

Lexa smiled as she shook her head before taking another sip, the taste enough to chase away the cold that seemed to have seeped into her body without her really noticing.

“So, what is it?” Lexa asked over the rim of her glass. “Or are you going to make a lady beg?”

The bartender sighed, the sound just a little exaggerated.

“If you insist on pulling my arm,” and he held it out for her.

Lexa obliged, she reached out and pulled just a little, the motion oddly familiar to her after all these years.

“Bob,” he said with a sly grin.

“Nice to meet you, Bob,” Lexa said. “I’m Jane.”

“You ain’t lying to me now, are you, Jane?”

“Are you lying to me, Bob?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’m not, either,” and Lexa liked the memories that now began to come back with a little more intensity with each passing moment.

Lexa paused as she leant back in the chair she sat in, she tried to stifle a yawn only to fail as she took in a tired breath.

“It normally this quiet, Bob?” she asked eventually.

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it’s busier,” ‘Bob’ said. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind?” Lexa asked.

“Not at all,” and she knew he was telling the truth from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Me ma bought this place years ago, when she was young. Worked her butt off, made it something big.”

Lexa smiled as a face seemed to solidify in her mind. 

But Bob continued, “then I came along, and ma still worked the bar, never one to complain. I had my own life, never thought of running a bar,” Bob said. “Ma worked here til the day she died, bless her soul,” Bob paused then, perhaps to remember the good times, perhaps to miss the memories. “The bar did well enough under ma to give me a good start on life. So when she passed I thought of closing shop, you know?” Bob paused in thought. “I had my own career and all that stuff.”

“But you keep it open for her?” Lexa asked.

“That’s right,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “It ain’t no sweat off my back, but I like to think it keeps me and ma close.”

Lexa smiled as she took another sip of her drink, and she found herself remembering a song that played so many years ago. She remembered the laughter, the wandering hands, the sloppy kisses. She even remembered _not_ remembering, too.

“I think she’d be proud of you, Bob,” Lexa said as she looked him in the eyes.

“You think?” he said, and behind the mischievous glint in his gaze Lexa could see a sadness for a relationship long missed.

“I know,” and Lexa took one long sip of her drink.

“Yeah,” Bob said with a smile. “I guess so,” he said and he raised his glass in toast. “To good times, Jane,” he said. “Past and future.”

Lexa smiled as she lifted her glass to her lips once more as she took a sip. And it was bitter, at first, it hit her tongue with a cruel bite but the taste sweetened, it soothed the bite and it eased her mind and it brought a smile to her lips. Lexa remembered the bartender she had met almost a century ago, who had seemed to laugh with so much weightlessness that it had let her forget for just a little while.

“Yeah,” Lexa said with a sad smile. “To good times.”

* * *

Lexa let herself lose track of time as she sat at the bar. People came and went, too, some stayed for hours, some for only a drink or two. Lexa didn’t know exactly why she hid away amongst old memories. But she did. She lied to herself in some sad attempt to understand, to make sense of the things she felt and the things she needed to do. Bob filled her glass when asked, cut her off for an hour or two when he thought she drank too much and he filled the time with cheerful conversation that always seemed to bring a smile to her lips.

But the sun beginning to rise and the buzzing on her wrist finally broke her from whatever revelry she had found herself in.

“Somewhere to be?” Bob asked as he glanced at the flashing light on her wrist.

“Probably,” and Lexa winced as she realised the earliness of the hour.

She stood, tried to fight back the groan at the cramp in her calf and sheswiped her wrist against the sensor in the table and blinked an acknowledgement at the notification that flashed before her eyes.

“Thanks for the chat, Bob,” Lexa said with a smile as she waved over her shoulder mid stride for the door. “For the conversation,” she said in answer to his raised eyebrows as he read the tip that must have been flashing across his own eyes.

“You take care, Jane,” he called after her with a kind smile.

Lexa returned his smile as she came to the door. But as it slid open she found herself pausing, one half of her engulfed by the cold of the new morning air, one half still hugged by the warmth of a bar she might visit in another hundred years.

“Hey, Bob,” she said as she turned to look the man in the eyes.

“Yeah?” he said.

“My name’s Lexa,” and she found herself liking the way his cheeks dimpled ever so slightly.

“Frankie,” he said with an understanding nod.

* * *

Stepping into the cold of the new morning felt like stepping into a new state of mind. Though Lexa’s mind was tired the chill seemed to wake her fully and chase away whatever wistful memories had dominated the night before. The buzzing on her wrist and the message that flashed across her eyes made her sigh though. She should have expected it, should have anticipated what was to come.

A shadow fell across her face and as Lexa looked up into the early morning sky she found an elegant form slowly descending from above. Even the few that walked by in the morning chill noticed, some took just enough of a look to register the skycar that approached before tuning it out, others seemed to watch simply for they had nothing better to do and others still ignored it entirely.

Once the skycar settled in front of her on the boulevard passersby hardly made note of the intrusion in their path, the appearance of a skycar clearly not uncommon for those walking by. But a suspicion began to fill Lexa’s mind as she stepped back, chin tilted up ever so slightly in defiance at whoever had been sent to find her.

The skycar that descended before her was quite obviously expensive. The sleek chrome plated lines of the vehicle conjured images of aquatic beasts, serpentine and elegant as they cut through the water. But its shape was redundant, merely a, dare she admit, effective way of convincing the masses that this make and model in particular was the one to buy. Skycars need not be aerodynamic, sleek and poised, if only because they were, well, _anti-grav._ They had no need to be aerodynamic at all really.

But perhaps its shape, its aquatic lines and chrome plated body worked on her. If only because she thought it was deserving of admiration and a second-over.

Lexa came face to face with her own reflection in the blacked out windows. She’d laugh at any other time at just how ostentatious this whole thing was, but it didn’t surprise her, it never did. All nightbloods had accumulated an excess of wealth over their lives. Some liked to lay low, not attract attention, whilst some liked to flaunt it, to live a life of luxury and splendour. And currently, Lexa understood just which category her old friend fell into.

The hiss of the door opening was barely heard over the hum of people moving by and the distant music of below surface meets that had barely lessened with the morning sun. The door slid open fully and Lexa was greeted by the soft leathers and antique wood laden interior of a skycar most could never afford. Sparkling chrome metal glittered in the grey tinged light. Wood as rich and as deep in colour as any ocean moon was interwoven with displays and technologies and fabrics that she knew came from the furthest of systems. All of it played together, danced and spun their way into something that was quite clearly worth more than most well-off people’s yearly salaries.

A woman, dressed in a neatly pressed white shirt and slim black pants that screamed equal parts elegance and fierceness, sat in the driver’s seat. She had pale skin and long dark brown hair that was pulled back and braided intricately and though her face was sharp, her cheeks clung to a youth that didn’t quite seem to match the hardness in her gaze.

“Is this for me?” Lexa asked as she waved her hand over the skycar though she already knew the answer.

“Yes,” the woman said, her voice youthful and light. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“I know,” and Lexa held up her wrist to show the holographic notification still flashing.

“Get in,” the woman said as she jerked her chin for Lexa to enter.

Lexa sighed, took one last look around herself to find a few passers-by taking an interest in the conversation before them, and some clearly more intrigued by the skycar than either woman.

And with that Lexa ducked into the skycar and sat in one of the almost comically large seats that seemed to engulf her.

“Harness, please,” the woman said as the door began to hiss closed behind her automatically.

“On it,” Lexa said as she reached out, and as she snared the harness she found that even that was so very over the top, from the gleaming metal buckle to the leather strap and stitching. “When did you know I arrived?”

“As soon as you entered orbit,” the woman said.

“I had the address,” Lexa said. “You didn’t need to pick me up.”

“You were taking your time.”

“I was busy.”

The woman looked over her shoulder and at the bar Lexa had stepped out of and the look of distain was hardly missed upon her face before she turned back forward. A shallow silence settled between them and Lexa wondered if she had met this woman before, if she was known to her, or if this woman was only a well compensated employee who didn’t ask too many questions.

But the engines spooled back into that subtle buzzing hum and Lexa watched the nameless woman guide the skycar up from the boulevard and into the sky. After clearing whatever height regulation were set in place the woman flipped a switch and the skycar hurtled forward. Enormous floating boulevard after boulevard flashed by below, buildings that stretched up into the sky turned into blurred colours of silver and magnificent shimmering light and Lexa found herself looking out the window and at the other skycars that they joined as they flew through the air.

Silence lingered in the skycar for an uncomfortable amount of time, and as Lexa looked down at the city that flashed by below she wondered whether the silence was purposeful, whether the woman had been instructed to make her uncomfortable on the journey or if she was just simply like that herself.

It didn’t surprise Lexa when the skycar lurched once and then began to rise higher and higher into the upper atmosphere, the upper most reaches of the sprawling city of floating boulevards and walkways home to the decidedly more wealthy.

It would be a long flight, Lexa assumed, and so she didn’t mind that she helped herself to getting comfortable and that she tried to find even just a moment of probably well needed sleep. What more was she going to do? Try to make conversation with ice queen in the driver’s seat?

* * *

The Nightingale was a _Monarch-class_ cruiser home to the Tavonal system in the twelfth district of the galactic core. Though it called the Tavonal system home, it wasn’t uncommon for any starships of the United Human Republicto make the journey to systems far and wide.

But this journey in particular was different. Onboard the Nightingale served almost 10,000 servicemen and women, engineers, scientist and doctors. Even civilians and their families lived aboard. But of those 10,000 there was a small detachment of irregulars that went by unnoticed by most.

Clarke stood by the floor to ceiling viewport of the observation deck, the clear aluminium window almost undetectable to her eyes as she stared down at New Corbus as it rotated by slowly below. Fleet Intelligence had ownership of a small section of the Nightingale and though its facilities barely made a blip on the ships internal maps, they held perhaps the most well equiped and advanced scanning and communications equipment available to the entire ship.

Clarke couldn’t help but to find her view interrupted by the hints of her reflection that stared back at her. The woman who looked back at her didn’t quite match the mental image she had of herself. Physically, it did, from the blonde hair that was pulled back in a tight bun, from the blue of her eyes and even the slight hint of a beauty spot above her lip and the cleft chin that she had been teased about as a youth. But what surprised her was the hardness in her eyes, in the way she held herself. She knew it not purposeful, not even conscious. But she had gone this long without giving herself hope that holding herself any other way seemed so very foreign.

But the hiss of the observation deck’s doors pulled her attention from her reflection and from the view down below and Clarke turned to find Costia walking her way, tablet in one hand and a bag slung over a shoulder.

Costia was a slender woman of nodescript height, easily dismissed for being too short, easily tall enough to surprise most when needed. The dark curls of her hair were pulled back in a messy bun that contrasted so very deeply with just how well pressed the black uniform she wore was and her complexion was both dark enough that she could pass as coming from any of the outer words, and light enough that she could mingle with the socialites of the galactic core.

“Have you packed?” Costia asked, her voice light and tinged with the hints of fatigue.

“Yes,” Clarke answered as she turned back to look at New Corbus through the grand viewport that stretched out before her.

“We’re to change out of our uniforms before leaving,” Costia continued, and Clarke shifted her gaze to Costia’s reflection to find hazel eyes smiling at her with an eagerness and anticipation she found infectious.

“I’m not surprised,” Clarke answered with a half smile, the last time they had gone on a mission together pulling memories a little too care free into her mind.

Costia came to stand closer beside her then, one of the woman’s hands coming up to press against the cold of the viewport as she leant forward and seemingly stretched out into the nothingness of space in front of them.

“Ever been to New Corbus?” Costia asked.

“Nope,” it didn’t surprise Clarke that she had never been, that Fleet Intelligence had never seen fit to even station people here permanently. There had always been bigger fish to fry. Until now.

“Same,” Costia said.

“It’s the perfect hiding spot,” Clarke said. “Too far away from the galactic core to draw too much suspicion but close enough to influence. And close enough to the outer worlds,” she needn’t elaborate, anyone in Fleet Intelligence would understand the benefits such a busy hub world would have for those running less than legal operations out of the outer worlds.

“Yep,” Costia nodded. “Come on,” she said as she reached up and slapped Clarke’s shoulder lightly. “I want a bite to eat and maybe a hit of something strong before we head down.”


	3. Chapter 3

Water beaded against the skycar’s windows as it rose higher and higher into the clouds above New Corbus City. A crimson wash of colours exploded around the skycar as it pierced through the last of the cloud layer.

The woman piloting, eyes ever focused on the instruments before her flipped a switch that turned the quiet thrum of the anti-grav into a barely audible hiss before they bled into nothing. And with that the skycar hurtle forward.

The skycar cut through the purple-tinted sky as a blanket of clouds stretched out below as far as the eye could see. At times the clouds shimmered, shifted, floated as if something spurred them onwards, at times they seemed to rest, to sleep, to soften the cold of the air and hang in their place. Lexa felt like she could have reached out, could have carded her fingers through the clouds as the skycar cut through the air. But she knew it far too cold to linger outside, she knew the clouds so far below, so huge that their size was unimaginable, incomprehensible to her.

On the horizon she could see the rising of a distant sun, its light slowly turning the clouds a crimson red, its heat slowly chasing back shadows that stretched out like the shadowed tendrils of an unseen beast.

Every now and then she could see another skycar cut through the air, slice through the blanket of clouds as they punched down into the planet’s atmosphere, or splice through the air as they rose higher and higher and higher into the sky.

It was undeniable now that Lexa found herself in the company of the rich, the wealthy, those with more power than any on the lower levels could fathom. A ship, sleek and as black as obsidian, lifted up through the cloud tops in the distance, the white of clouds drifting off it in gentle waves before its engines spooled into action as it prepared to hurtle into the upper atmosphere before plunging into the black of space.

But all those things passed Lexa by. She had spent lifetimes gazing upon scenes just like that, she had spent years remembering, reliving, and regretting things she couldn’t change. Years had gone by where she had lived in the shadows, where she had hunted down lead after lead, until she had found herself drawn to New Corbus. She should have expected to find herself drawn back the the planet, to the city she had once called home. She wondered what it would be like now.

Lexa’s gaze turned from the clouds the skycar skimmed across and to the woman who sat in the driver’s seat. The white of her shirt, its crisp lines and the elegance of the cut were familiar. She wasn’t surprised by the clothes the woman wore. Even the black of her pants, and how it seemed to swallow any light that touched it were familiar, were to be expected, and were the signs of someone who had every need and want catered to without much thought of the consequence.

But Lexa pulled her gaze from the woman’s clothes and to her hair. Fierce braids were woven through the deep brown. Her hair was pulled back from her eyes and the intricacies of the patterns were enough for Lexa to know this woman had her own servants, whether human or synth, to serve her. But the thing that drew Lexa’s attention was the simple fact that her hair fell down well below her shoulders, it hid the back of her neck and she knew what it meant without really needing to be told.

“How old are you?” Lexa asked as she reclined further into her seat, legs stretched out in front of her as she looked at the side of the woman’s face.

“Twenty-Eight,” it was a simple reply, one that Lexa knew to be truthful.

But not the whole truth.

“Last time I was on New Corbus was almost a hundred years ago,” Lexa said as she looked back out the window. A long cloud drifted above the blanket of its brethren, the shadow it cast long, gentle and kind in the dazzling light of the rising sun.

“I know,” the woman answered, and Lexa looked back to find that the woman looked at her through the reflection in the view screen.

Lexa smiled, if only because she liked the devilish smirk that snaked its way upon the woman’s lips ever so subtly.

“What’s your name?” Lexa asked.

She found she liked these games they played, the face they spoke to unknown, the memories shared lifetimes ago.

“Ontari,” the woman replied with a subtle tilting of her head before she turned back to face forward as she began guiding the skycar higher yet into the sky.

“Who were you before?” but as Lexa continued to look, as she continued to think, she found herself beginning to recognise the mischievous glint in Ontari’s eyes she had once seen in another.

“You died in my arms,” Ontari said quietly as the skycar banked right, the clouds Lexa could once see slowly replaced by the deep purple of space high above where stars could still be seen. “Almost two hundred years ago.”

There was a certain unspoken rule amongst nightbloods. One that most adhered to. It wasn’t so concrete as to be unbreakable, but it had been put in place to keep the peace, to ensure old grudges were never allowed to bleed into the lives of others. But perhaps Lexa would acknowledge what had been revealed. If only because she had never been given a chance to repay the the debt she had always felt she owed.

“Thank you,” and Lexa meant it. More than she could imagine.

“You’re welcome,” Ontari answered with just as much sincerity.

But a gentle sadness crept over Lexa. If only because she had never been given a chance to say goodbye. If only because she had always wanted to know more than she had known.

“How long?” Lexa asked and she fought to keep her emotions in check. “How long ago was it?”

Ontari remained quiet for a moment as she eased the skycar into a steady incline, and as she seemed satisfied she could take her hands off the controls she turned in her seat to face her.

“He lived a full life,” Ontari said with a sad smile. “I was given his memories almost twenty years ago.”

“Was he happy?” Lexa asked.

“Yes,” and Ontari turned back forwards. “He was,” there was a moment’s pause as Ontari seemed to remember, ponder and recall something not thought of in years. “He would be happy to know you are well, Lexa.”

Lexa let the silence take hold of the skycar as she looked back out the window. She knew if she said anymore her voice would crack, just as she knew her memories would return with just as much pain and hurt, loss and sadness.

It would be strange to look at Ontari knowing who she had once been, it always was when faced with an old friend. But she was happy at least one of her mentor’s memories would be passed down to another. They deserved that much.

* * *

The remainder of the journey went by in relative silence. Only the hum of the skycar’s engines broke the calm. Lexa didn’t mind though. It gave her the opportunity to organise her thoughts and to try to figure out how she was going to get what she came here for.

Every now and then she found herself glancing at Ontari, perhaps in an attempt to reconcile Ontari’s face with that of her former mentor. She couldn’t deny the woman was very much different to who she had once known, mostly in part due to the fact that Ontari was in fact a woman and not the guiding presence of a man whose memories she now shared. But there were subtle similarities in the way Ontari held herself. That wasn’t a surprise though. Every successive host seemed to pick up a habit or two from those of past lives.

But before too long Lexa’s attention was pulled to the structure that appeared over the horizon rising up through the clouds.

A large almost circular, rounded tower of shimmering chrome rose up high into the sky, its base somewhere buried far below hidden by the clouds. There were no seams, no metal joints, no glass panels or any other form of blemish visible upon the tower’s surface. It didn’t surprise Lexa at just how ostentatious the structure was. Most who lived this high above New Corbus lived in just that way. It gave them privacy from the masses despite the grandeur of their palatial home amongst the clouds. Perhaps those who lived in such structures need not worry about what the lowly peons so far below thought of them.

“It hasn’t changed,” Lexa said quietly as Ontari levelled the skycar and began directing it forward as it slowed.

“No,” Ontari said quietly, and Lexa could tell she focused just a little more as she began guiding the skycar to its final destination.

The closer they got to the tower the larger it grew until it took up almost all of Lexa’s vision with its shimmering, glinting chrome wash of colour. The skycar continued forward ever so slowly then, the gleaming tower blocked out the sun and it cast the skycar’s cabin in a dark shadow that silenced the warmth of the waking morning.

As they neared the tower an opening appeared, elliptical in shape as it slowly increased in size. Lexa watched as Ontari began slowing the skycar down, its speed something unknown, any frame of reference she had once had from the clouds now all consumed by the dark shadow of the opening and the enormity of the gleaming tower.

They continued forward for a second, perhaps five, perhaps ten, and then they crossed the threshold of the opening in the side of the tower as darkness consumed the skycar whole. That darkness only lasted a second before a ring of lights appeared along the edge of a circular platform, size large enough to fit the skycar comfortably in its centre.

And then Ontari set it down with barely a gentle _thud._

Lexa took a moment to look back behind her to find the entrance to the tower slowly closing as silently and as gracefully as it had opened. But as the last light of the outside world was cut off, the black of the space around her seemed to come alive without light source, without shadow and without intensity. It existed somewhere between the visible and the unseen and it was something that Lexa had once found disconcerting centuries ago, but had now grown used to the strange lights that helped keep hidden what was never intended to be seen.

Lexa waited as Ontari flipped a switch before the skycar’s doors began to open with a gentle thrumming hiss. She waited until they finished opening before she stepped out of the skycar, bag cinched tight to her body as she smoothed over her coat.

“This way,” Ontari gestured as she came around to the same side of the skycar.

It had been too long since Lexa had visited, too long since she had felt the cool chill of the familiarity. She had almost forgotten, almost let the memories fade into the background. But as she fell into step behind Ontari, as she followed a woman who had once been a bald man, she found herself embracing the whatever memories began to resurface.

They continued walking towards the edge of the platform and deeper into the cavernous black of the tower. Their footsteps echoed out around them and Lexa could see no features in the dark, she could see no doorways in the distance. All frame of reference for how large the space was didn’t exist. But as they approached the platforms edge more lights seemingly appeared in the nothingness before her to reveal a walkway large enough for perhaps five people to walk across side by side.

“Does anyone ever fall over the edge?” Lexa asked quietly, yet her voice decided to carry in the silence, it decided to echo out into the cold of the unknown around them.

“No,” Ontari said with a gentle laugh.

Lexa had once contemplated jumping, had once morbidly been curious to see just how far down the depths went. But part of her thought it all a trick, part of her thought that perhaps the lights were a deception and that she could simply walk past their shielding light and continue on until she hit the very walls of the tower. But she wouldn’t test that theory. Not until she had finished what she had stared centuries ago.

They walked for minutes in silence along the impossible path before them. Each step they took gentle and too loud, quiet and too sudden to be natural. Lexa wouldn’t be surprised if there were pressure sensors imbedded in the flooring that amplified any footsteps it detected.

Before too long a sliver of light appeared in the distance. It grew in size and reached upwards as if giant doors were slowly being slid open before them. A lone figure stood in the new light’s centre, their silhouette darkened by the intensity of cool light that didn’t seem to cast its presence any further than a breath.

They came to a stop before the newcomer, a woman whose face was sharp, her stature just a little taller than both and her expression somewhere between curiosity and indifference.

“Echo,” Ontari said in greeting.

“Ontari,” Echo answered, and Lexa found herself thinking Echo a nightblood too, if only because her hair was braided in similar ways, and that it fell well past her shoulders, enough to hide the scar that would beckon question and reveal secret. “She’s waiting.”

Lexa began to step forward but Echo stepped into her path, one hand held up to stop her from proceeding.

“Weapons,” Echo said, her tone simple, her eyes hardening.

Lexa reached into her coat’s pocket and drew out her pistol slowly before handing it over.

“And your bag,” Echo insisted

But at that Lexa would draw a line. She’d part with her pistol. That was replaceable. But the other belongings she wouldn’t let out of her sight.

“Not going to happen,” Lexa said, and she lifted her chin ever so slightly. Enough that she knew Echo would see the challenge, enough that Echo would see no threat, no attempt to mask knowledge.

“It’s ok,” Ontari said after a slight pause. “She can keep the bag.”

Echo was silent for a moment as she eyed Lexa, and through it all Lexa found herself trying to figure out if Echo had been someone she had met in a previous life, if she had known her, crossed paths, perhaps even crossed. But eventually Echo nodded and stepped aside, and with that Lexa pushed away her questioning thoughts.

“Echo takes her job seriously,” Ontari said as they continued through the new threshold of unblinding light.

“I can see.”

The space beyond the threshold was different. There was a subtle life to that permeated the air in comparison to the cold emptiness of the first. Though still black, Lexa looked down at the floor and saw a perfect reflection of herself, yet the image was dimmed, it seemed shadowed, hidden by some unseen film that covered the entirety of the floor.

But as she looked back forwards she found a vast window to the outside that spanned seemingly as far as she could see. Perhaps a window, perhaps some other abstract technology that kept the elements at bay. Whatever it was allowed Lexa to see the clouds that blanketed the atmosphere far below where she stood. She could see the sun’s light that danced its purple and red, yellow and orange light across every little undulation and she could even spy the occasional vessel that broke through the cloud cover as it raced back and forth, to and fro.

A long wooden table sat in the distance, and it was rich in colour, a deep brown tinged with red. Upon it were plates of food, glasses of drink and a single large candle that danced its flame light across the black emptiness that surrounded her.

A woman sat at the head of the table, her hair a subtle blonde, greyed at the edges and her eyes a piercing blue. It was a face Lexa had seen long ago, one she had grown used to, been familiar with but had long since left it behind.

And yet as she continued to walk forward, as she continued to approach, she found herself fighting back the ever threatening smile that seemed to want to break free.

And so, eventually, after an eternity, after echoed step and perfectly dimmed reflection beneath her, Lexa came to the table, a chair and a plate of food already awaiting her.

“Lexa,” the woman said, her voice oddly cold, her expression just a curious as it was cold, calculating, unkind and gentle.

“Nia,” Lexa said and she took a moment to look out around herself, to Ontari who had come to stand aside, to the empty black of the room where walls were not visible, were the source of light that gave vision to her eyes was unseen, and where the vastness of the window before her stretched out so far she was sure it wrapped around the tower. She looked up, she looked as high as she could and yet she couldn’t see an end to the height of the window and she couldn’t see sign of a roof or any kind of structure above.

And it made her feel small, it made her feel infinitesimally unimportant.

And it was all by design.

“Sit, Lexa,” Nia said as she gestured for the chair. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Lexa smiled as she shrugged off her bag and sat in the chair, her eyes never leaving Nia’s who continued to follow each motion she made with a predatory intensity.

Eventually Lexa settled herself as comfortably as she could given who she sat in front of, and how exposed she was to the empty nothingness that swallowed her whole. Even the seemingly absent window that expanded in every direction behind Nia, that showed the clouds, the rising sun and the brave few stars that still shone their light, made her feel just a little nauseous at the height she knew them to be.

“How are you, my dear?” Nia asked as she reached for the cutlery set on the table top, the knife gleaming, sparkling in the flickering of the candle light, the fork elegant in form and in motion as Nia held it aloft.

“Good,” Lexa answered as she reached for her own cutlery.

“It has been too long,” Nia said, the cutlery in her grasp never moving as she stared intently at Lexa. “How long has it been, my dear, since you graced us with your presence?”

“Almost two hundred years,” Lexa said.

“One hundred and ninety seven-years,” Nia said softly. “Three months. Eleven days—” she looked away, and Lexa knew she accessed her ocular implants. “Four hours. Two minutes and—” a moment’s pause, “twenty-three seconds since I last saw you,” and Nia’s gaze snapped back to her. “And you haven’t aged a day, my dear.”

* * *

Clarke knew Costia was talking to her. That much was obvious. She knew words were being said, questions probably being asked. But she couldn’t focus as she continued reading the tablet in her hands.

“—and then he said—”

There was a pause, long enough that Clarke knew Costia would be looking at her.

“Sorry,” Clarke put the tablet down and looked up to find Costia with narrowed eyes as she stared at her. “What were you saying?”

Costia sighed, she leant back in her chair and took a bite of the food in front of her before answering.

“It’s nothing,” Costia said simply.

“It’s not nothing,” and Clarke felt a flush of guilt.

“It’s nothing important enough that I can be bothered saying again,” Costia said.

“Sorry,” Clarke winced just a little as Costia looked away and out the window they sat next to.

“What are you reading?” Costia asked. “More reports?”

“The news,” and Clarke flipped the tablet around so Costia could see the article heading she had been reading.

_Orion’s Belt: Populist Government Refuses Extension of Quantum Jump Point_

“I see,” Costia said with a rolling of her eyes, it wasn’t uncommon for the people of Orion’s Belt to cause issues for their neighbouring systems. “So,” she began after a pause. “What do you think?”

Clarke looked out the window too, she found herself gazing upon New Corbus and she followed a cargo ship that began its descent to the planet’s many floating cities far below.

“I think we’re close,” Clarke answered.

“You think it’s actually one person?” Costia asked quietly as she looked around them. Though they sat in a section of the Nightingale that was strictly for Fleet Intelligence, being careful and discrete came with the job. And so Costia made sure no one would be close enough to hear her before she turned back to face Clarke. “An actual nightblood?” and she gestured out the window and to New Corbus. “You think it’s one person doing the killings across the systems?”

Clarke reached out and took hold of her cup, she took a sip and she let herself think and consider everything she had been brief on before they had embarked on what had at times seemed like a wild goose chase.

“Yes,” and Clarke nodded to herself. “I think we’re on the right track,” it was fascinating.

Nightbloods had been all but forgotten to the passage of time, a quiet myth barely even told to unruly children who refused to sleep. But Fleet Intelligence had in someway, in some form, kept a small but well maintained dossier on the mysterious people of the past, the first pioneers of interplanetary exploration. If only because there were certain things that happened, certain events that seemed so very bizarre, that could only be explained by the existence of a secret sect of humans that lived hundreds of years, that had garnered so much wealth and power throughout their lives that they could influence worlds and destabilise systems if given enough incentive.

The irony wasn’t lost on Clarke either. She knew how ironic it would be for anyone on the outside to learn that fleet intelligence, a secret organisation most knew nothing about was in part formed to keep tabs on another secret society no one knew about. The only difference being one was sanctioned by the powers that be.

But Clarke had a job. And there were rules, laws, ways of doing things properly lest humanity fall prey to its once violent past. And no matter how ironic her situation may or may not be, letting people take matters into their own hands, killing countless people, despite them being the scum of the galaxy, was in no way something she could stand by and let happen. And so it was simple. Clarke would stop whoever it was she had been sent to track down.


	4. Chapter 4

New Corbus City was a place full of grime, of sleaze and ill-gotten paragons who would, with one hand, whisper words of kindness and with the other plan to stab you in the back as soon as your attention shifted.

Clarke stood at a crossroads of sorts, her coat pulled tightly around herself as she eyed the rain that slowly poured down from the heavens above.

“It’s funny,” Costia said and Clarke looked at her friend to find Costia staring up into the skies overhead.

“What is?” Clarke asked, eyes already turning to a group of men on the other side of the floating boulevard, their drunken voices painfully cutting through the sounds of music far too eclectic for her tastes.

“The wealthy live up there,” Costia said and she held her hand out into the rain, the small overhang they stood under thankfully shielding them from most of the downpour. “It’s like they’re pissing down on everyone here,” she said with a shrug as she pulled her hand back and shook off the rain water before tucking it back into her own oversized pockets.

Clarke smiled something between mirth and another emotion she didn’t bother to consider as her gaze followed a skycar that whizzed by. She thought Costia’s description apt. These people, who lived on the lower levels, and those who lived on the levels even deeper, new seemed to consider the wealth disparity, never seemed to care. Or perhaps they didn’t really mind. Maybe they didn’t for they knew the outer worlds were far less wealthy whose habitants had far more pressing issues to worry about.

“Come on,” Costia said as she tilted her head to the side.

Clarke took a moment to look behind them both as they continued down the pathway, her gaze taking in every person she saw, she lingered on someone who might have been following, she took a moment to gauge why they had their hands in their pockets and then she turned forward, the threat no longer considered as she began flicking the information away from her vision with two quick blinks of her eye.

“The drone identified her about twenty-four hours ago,” Costia said quietly. “Sensors matched her gait to what’s on record.”

“Yeah,” and Clarke couldn’t help but to look up into the clouds overhead, if only because she wondered if Fleet Intelligence kept tabs on them as much as they had with their suspect. “What do you think she’s doing here?” and Clarke shivered as a chill ran through her body.

“Same thing she did on Tellasil,” Costia scoffed.

Clarke didn’t respond for a moment as a woman passed them by.

“How many nightbloods do you think are here?” Clarke genuinely wondered how many were left in the galaxy. She didn’t think there could be more than a few hundred. Fleet Intelligence was hardly able to keep track of the ones they were certain about. Their current quarry notwithstanding.

Costia answered the question with a shrug, the gesture all that really needed to be said. Clarke suspected a certain family might have taken residence on New Corbus, perhaps she’d have her answers sooner rather than later. And yet she didn’t quite know what to report back should she actually find what she was looking for. Nightbloods mostly kept to themselves, most hardly ever interfered with anything other than local politics. Of course there was the occasional once a decade overstepping of power and influence whose repercussions more likely than not wouldn’t be felt for decades to come.

Perhaps that was what made them so hard to pin down, the things they did, the influence they wielded never really seemed to impact anything for years, decades, perhaps even centuries. The frustrating thing though? Most in Fleet Intelligence assigned to watch over a nightblood would spend an entire career trying to decrypt their actions and would retire never really knowing what they had been working to stop.

If Clarke never got to see the fruits of her labour at least she believed it was important. They couldn’t have a secret society dictating and influencing the lives of countless trillions simply because.

“We’re here,” Costia said then and Clarke looked up to find that they stood before a bar. Windows dirtied by years and neon lights flashing were all that filled her vision as she tried peering inside.

They both shared a quick glance before stepping through the doors to be greeted by the smell of alcohol that hung thick in the air. Music seemed more unfocused inside the bar. A single exit could be seen in the far corner and Clarke found herself eyeing a man and a woman in one of the private booths, hands hidden under the table and within clothes. She couldn’t help but to feel her the corners of her lips twitch in disgust just a bit as she pulled her gaze away and to the man who leant behind the bar.

The man looked up at their entrance and Clarke thought the toothy smile he sent their way would have been charming had it not been for the sleaze she thought ever heavy in the air.

“Ladies,” he said, and Clarke followed suit as Costia slid herself into one of the bar stools, grin already on her face.

“Two Orion Gins,” Costia said and she swiped her wrist against the display on embedded in the table.

“Two Orion Gins coming right up,” and the man turned and disappeared under the bar.

Costia turned to look at her and Clarke couldn’t help but feel a smile creep onto the corners of her lips. It wasn’t uncommon for Clarke to think that Costia felt far more at home amongst the people, far more alive and able to get the information from them without having to resort to threats or intimidation. Perhaps that was why they worked well together.

_Lighten up, Clarke_

That had been what Costia had said last time they had gone under cover. Perhaps she just found it hard to shake the feeling that she was responsible for far more than most people ever wer—

“So,” and Clarke looked up to find the bartender standing before them again, two cups being pushed their way. “What brings two ladies like you to a place like this?” and he gestured around him and to the small handful of irregulars Clarke thought the bar’s regulars.

“Funny you should ask,” Costia answered with a smile as she took one of the glasses. “We’ve been on a bit of a holiday,” and she took a sip before putting the glass back down.

“Ah,” and the bartender looked over at Clarke and she was sure he took her measure. “Well, New Corbus City ain’t like any other city.”

“No,” and Costia laughed, her voice carefree and kind. “We’ve found that out the hard way,” and the man’s eyebrows lifted a fraction.

“Oh” and he leant against the bar, arms folded and head cocked to the side in curiosity. “And why is that, miss?”

“Well,” and Costia turned to her and nudged her shoulder. “Miss talkative over here’s just a bit mad because we’ve lost a friend,” and Costia held out her wrist, the watch she wore already spitting up an image of a woman whose eyes were sharp, hair a wild mess of braids and curls and whose expression couldn’t quite be placed. “You seen her around?”

The man looked at the image for half a second before shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head.

“Can’t say I have, miss,” and he gestured to a man who nursed a drink at the far end of the bar, whose face was unshaven, hair a mess and his mid so dulled with drink Clarke thought him unlikely to even remember his own name. “We don’t get that sort of clientele around here,” and sighed as he looked back at them. “We ain’t that fancy.”

“Really?” Clarke asked, and she watched as his eyes snapped to her.

There were a few ways Clarke and Costia always played the next few moments. Sometimes they’d sweet talk them if the person seemed to be unsure of if they remembered someone or not, sometimes they’d given up if the person genuinely didn’t remember, but at times like this, when the person was lying to them?

“I think you have seen her,” Clarke said and she swiped her wrist across the display and she watched as the bartender’s eyes widened as the credits flashed across the panel. “Does that help?”

“I ain’t looking for trouble,” he said and he took a step back, eyes narrowed a fraction. “If she owes you money or if you’re after her head I ain’t looking to get in the middle of anything.”

“We just want some answers,” Costia said quietly, her voice still soft, her smile ever present. “No one’s getting hurt,” and she shrugged as she took another sip of her drink. “In fact I think you’re getting more out of this than anyone else, aren’t you?” 

The bartender sighed then and he seemed to chew his lip for a moment before making a decision.

“Look,” and he shrugged his shoulder. “She came in here looking for a drink — Europa Freeze, not many people want one of them around here, you know?” and he pointed to a nearby bottle half full that sat apart from the others behind the bar. “Said her name was Jane, she stayed for a few hours then got picked up.”

“Who picked her up?” Clarke asked.

“I didn’t see no one driving the skycar from here,” and he pointed to the windows as if to emphasise the fact that it would be hard to look out of them. “Alls I saw was that it was one of those posh black skycars.”

Clarke looked him in the eyes for a moment longer before shrugging and taking a longer sip of her drink, the tartness of it enough to clear her mind for a little while longer.

“Look, that’s all that happened,” the man said, voice a little more quiet now. “I don’t want trouble, I ain’t looking for it. I’ve answered your questions but I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Clarke didn’t blame him for asking them to leave, she didn’t blame him for keeping his voice down either. She knew that he’d recognise them as something more than just the usual small-time criminal. Transferring that many credits into someone’s account without triggering any banking alarms needed sophisticated software.

“Thanks for the drink,” Clarke said with a wry smile as she slid off her barstool, Costia quick to flash the man her own cheery smile as they turned to leave.

“You think he told us the truth?” Costia asked once they stepped outside.

Clarke shook her head as she turned up the collar of her jacket to shield from the spray of rain that misted down upon them.

“No,” and she shook her head as she looked over her shoulder to find the bartender eyeing them cautiously as the doors slid shut. “At least not all of it.”

* * *

Lexa sat in the high-backed chair, the empty dark of the room that seemed too bright and too small an oddly comforting reminder of times past. The window that spanned her entire vision showed the sun where it slowly continued to rise in the distance. It bathed the bed of clouds in its glow and Lexa found herself thinking the scene beautiful and breathtaking.

“Thank you, Nia,” Lexa said as she looked back at Nia to find the older woman looking at her over the brim of a rectangular glass full of a heady drink.

“You are very welcome my dear,” Nia said, the warmth of her smile contrasting with just how cold and sharp her eyes appeared.

That image was always a stark contrast to the vision of the woman Lexa sat before. She was under no mistake that Nia could be cunning, deceitful, easy to resort to backstabbing and cruel punishment should someone cross her. And yet Lexa had found her honourable in an odd way. Perhaps it was because Nia genuinely cared for those she called family, maybe it was because Lexa knew Nia would do anything to help those she considered close. Whatever the reason Lexa didn’t really question it.

“How was the food, my dear?” Nia asked quietly.

“Good,” and Lexa didn’t need to lie or stretch the truth one bit. “Thank you.”

Nia smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in happiness.

“And you, Ontari?” Nia tiled her head to Ontari who had taken a seat along one of the sides of the table, a plate cleared of food and cutlery politely placed atop it the sole sign she had eaten.

“Very nice, Nia,” Ontari said.

Nia nodded to herself as she put the small cup down upon the table before she leant back in her chair and looked outwards for a long moment.

Lexa knew Nia must be considering any kind of scenario as to why she had come. She wouldn’t be surprised if Nia had in some way already anticipated what her request would be and she also wouldn’t be surprised if Nia hadn’t even considered it at all. She wouldn’t blame her, for what she intended to do was tantamount to blasphemy.

“Why are you here, my dear?”

Lexa’s gaze snapped to Nia’s to find her staring at her with such an intensity that it would have made her flinch if she had been anyone else. For a moment Lexa considered bending the truth, for a second she considered lying or not even telling Nia anything. But she couldn’t. Not after all she had been through over the last two hundred years.

“I want the Lightbournes,” Lexa said it as simply as she could. There was no other way.

She heard a gasp slip past Ontari’s lips, she watched as Nia leant forward in her chair and she was certain she even sensed Echo somewhere far behind her stiffen.

“And what do you intend to do with them, my dear?” Nia asked, and this time her voice was iron, was cold, was something unkind and unnerving.

“You know,” Lexa said. She wouldn’t mince words, she wouldn’t utter falsehoods.

“What you say—” Nia trailed off for a moment, “— is it blasphemous?” There was a pause. “No, perhaps traitorous?” Nia remained quiet for so long that Lexa wondered what filtered through the woman’s mind. She wondered if Nia conjured plans and contingencies, scenarios and strategies and any sort of failsafe actions that would need to be carried out should word of what has been said leak to those that remained. “Foolish,” Nia said suddenly. “What you say is foolish, my dear.”

“They started it,” Lexa said, and though her voice, her tone and her posture was polite, she knew Nia sensed the iron of her will. “They opened the door and all I’m doing is stepping through and closing it behind me. No one else—”

“—You have already involved us,” and this time there was a flash of anger, a flash of disappointment in Nia’s tone.

“I need your help, Nia,” it was the truth. Lexa couldn’t do it alone.

Nia sighed and Lexa watched as she leant back in her chair and looked away in thought. Lexa wondered what Nia thought in that moment. Part of her wondered if Nia thought her deranged, lost and broken. Part of her wondered if Nia thought her arrogant and more likely to end up face down in the dirt on some backwards outer world no one had ever heard of before. She didn’t really care though.

“Perhaps I should put you on hold for a century,” Nia said as her gaze turned back to her, “would that rid you of your foolish notions of revenge, my dear?”

“No,” Lexa shook her head. She wasn’t even afraid that Nia would do such a thing. But she knew being forced to wait another hundred years would only make her want it more.

“I think it would only make you want it more,” Nia said, perhaps to herself, perhaps as if she had just read her mind.

“It would,” Lexa shifted in her seat, and she didn’t quite know if it was to make herself more comfortable or to give her something to do besides hold Nia’s piercing stare.

“Why do you come to us for help?” Nia asked suddenly. “Is it because you think I feel as though I owe you?”

“No,” again Lexa shook her head. “But I know you can get me the information I need. Or you already know what I’m after.”

Nia sighed as she reached for her cup, she lifted it to her lips and Lexa watched as she paused for a second as she seemed to breathe in the scents before taking a shallow sip.

“You have made quite the noise in your travels, my dear,” Nia said eventually. “How many petty criminals have you killed? How many lowly planets have you visited? How much destruction have you left in your wake?”

Lexa didn’t need to answer that. She knew Nia would have been keeping tabs on her, she knew most nightbloods with any kind of power would have been keeping on eye on her, just as they did every other nightblood. Except for the Lightbournes.

“They crossed a line,” Lexa didn’t mean to snap, but she did and she regretted it almost as soon as her voice finished echoing out around them.

“They did, my dear,” Nia said, an eyebrow raised, her tone just a little full of reprimand. “But they were banished for it.”

“They deserve punishment, Nia,” Lexa challenged. “After everything they did. After every rule, every law, every oath they broke they deserve punishment.”

“They can never return to the core worlds,” Nia said it more sternly now, and Lexa knew she was pushing it, she knew she couldn’t raise her voice much more without being sent away for years.

“But they’re still alive,” her voice sounded smaller to her than she had intended for it to sound.

“My dear,” Nia seemed just a little annoyed then. “They rule over an empire of nothing.”

Lexa bit her lip to stop herself from snapping. She looked away and tried to think of what to say, she tried to think of what she could do to make Nia at least open to helping her. And yet she didn’t blame Nia for not wanting to give away the information she needed. If only because she knew if it bad for Nia if word spread amongst the nightblood families that she had in some way facilitated the death of another.

“They’re still alive,” Lexa said quietly.“out there. Somewhere,” and she gestured away from herself as if to represent _somewhere._ “Please. Nia,” Lexa whispered.“Even just tell me what system they’re in. I’ll do the rest,” Lexa leant forward and made sure Nia met her gaze. “No one has to know. No one will know. I swear it.”

Nia remained quiet for a long moment after that, Lexa watched as she lifted her glass and took one last sip before setting it down on the table as she leant back in her chair and let the harsh darkness seemingly swallow her in its deathly glow.

“I will tell you where they are, my dear,” Nia said eventually. “But first you will kill someone for me.”


End file.
